


The Two Bucket Method

by TriDom



Series: The Qualities of being Neighborly [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 07:57:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10692867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriDom/pseuds/TriDom
Summary: Stiles is washing his car, minding his own business, when Peter comes over. It turns out they can't be trusted with a water hose.





	The Two Bucket Method

It was the second weekend of the month and Stiles had a routine, around four or five, he went out to the garage, checked that he had all of his detailing supplies to do a top to bottom clean of his car. Most of the time, he at least needed microfiber towels, because his were still dirty from a month before. He'd throw those in the washer before running to the auto shop joint in his mom's old CJ with the windows down and the top removed. Sometimes, when the wind hit it just right, he could still smell her on the interior. 

When he got home, he pulled the CJ into the garage and went to get his own car's keys, doing some moving around of the vehicles with his dad's cruiser in the driveway. Then he went into the garage and got his soap, rags, and his buckets. He filled them with water from the hose that he dragged over to the driveway and added the soap to one of them until it was frothy.  

He hosed down the deep metallic blue paint of his STI before, dipping a rag in the soapy water, ringing it out above the roof to get it as wet and slick as possible before starting rub away the dirt with a thick layer of water and soap between his hand, the rag, the dirt, and his car's paint to cut down on swirlmarks in the clear coat. 

He had his method down after so long, wash away dirt, rinse the rag in one bucket, then soap it up again in the other. It was easy to let his mind drift while he did it, listening to the few people drive down the road, some kids down the road riding their bikes and some playing basketball. He used to hate how quiet their neighborhood was, how there wasn’t anything to do, and how town was ten miles away. Now he loved it. There wasn’t any highway noise, it was safe, he didn’t have to worry about leaving the door unlocked, or stress about if he’d locked his car.

Shit still happened, but it wasn’t like where he’d lived when he was gone, trying to balance the risk of being robbed against good rent prices.

He hadn't even finished the roof before he heard the front door across the street open. He glanced up, figuring it was Chris or Peter getting their mail. Peter came out and down the steps before crossing the street. 

"Hey," Stiles said. 

"Hello," Peter said, watching him work. 

"Where's Chris?" 

"Working, because he's boring," Peter said, the corners of his mouth turned down. He was such a pouter. Stiles thought it was pretty fucking cute, even when he probably shouldn't. It drove Chris crazy when Stiles’s gave in to Peter’s pouting, but he couldn’t help it.  

"So I'm the second choice?" 

"Yes," Peter said. "Do you have another rag?" 

Stiles stopped what he was doing and squinted at Peter. "You want to help me do manual labor?" 

"I clean my GT-R every time we get home from the track." 

"At the car wash." 

"If you don’t want my help, I’ll go home,” Peter said, even as he took one of the rags from the pack Stiles bought and dunking it in the soap. He went to the other side of the car and did the same thing Stiles had, rang the rag out above the paint then started a soft but firm motion with his hand to remove the fine layer of dust and pollen. 

"Look at you, actually knowing what you're doing." 

"I was detailing cars before you were even a little sperm in your dad’s balls," Peter said, sticking out his tongue. 

"You detailed them or you watched someone do it?" 

Peter rolled his eyes, but smiled slightly. "I did it. In high school and some in college for extra money." 

"Look at you trying to be a wholesome self-sufficient young man," Stiles said. 

Peter flicked water at him. "It didn't have anything to do with the fact that I was dating a man five years older and my parents cut me off." 

Stiles laughed, grabbing the hose when he and Peter both finished with the roof. He sprayed off the soap before it could dry in the little sunlight and heat that was left. Then they started on the windows and door trim. They worked in silence for a little bit with them bent over on opposite sides of the car. When Stiles felt water misting him, he looked up to it coming over the top of the car. 

"You're getting me wet." 

"Isn't that always the plan?" Peter asked from the other side. 

"I'm going to dump a bucket on you." 

"That would be awfully rude," Peter said. 

The mist continued for a few more seconds before it cut off. Stiles shook his head, but smiled. Peter could act like he had a stick up his ass all he wanted or sometimes like he was better than anyone else in the world, but he was a goofy bastard and he'd never had Stiles's fooled. Maybe it was because he'd met him with Chris. Chris seemed to bring the dumbass out in Peter more than any other time. 

When they finished the body, they started to wash the wheels, Stiles on the front passenger side, and Peter sitting on the ground, washing the rear passenger side. 

"These are disgusting," Peter said, scrubbing the brake dust from the dark wheels. "Have you ever washed them?" 

"Yes, your highness. Last month, but the Brembos make build up fast. I bet if you didn't get your shit detailed all the time we could go scrub if off your precious princess too." 

"But I do get it detailed." 

"And if I could afford a GT-R I could probably afford to do the same thing," Stiles said. "Privileged." 

"How else do you except me to get boys half my age?" 

"I don't know. Definitely not your wit and charm," Stiles said. 

Then cold water hit Stiles right on the neck, splashing into his face. When he looked over, Peter was holding the hose. He smiled then jumped up when Stiles did. He got Stiles again in the chest before Stiles caught him. He tried to pry the sprayer out of Peter's hands, managing to shoot Peter right under the chin and making him gasp at the cold. 

"You're such a child," Peter said, trying to turn his back on Stiles as Stiles tried to keep him still. 

"You started the war, I'm just trying to finish it," Stiles said, pull Peter against his dad's cruiser. They thumped against the sheet metal, but it was a police car, it had seen a lot worse. Stiles didn't like looking at it too closely. It was too sad. The hose went off, again, then again as their fingers slipped against each other. Stiles’s feet were soaked, his socks clinging to his toes.

It wasn't that Stiles didn't realize their position put his hips right against Peter's ass, it's that he was doing a job and refused to be distracted, until it dragged, and Peter moved more, then  _intentionally_ moved again. 

"Stop it. That is a direct violation of the Geneva Convention,” Stiles said.

"I'm taking the history channel away from you and Chris," Peter said.

Stiles stopped trying to get the hose and ground his hips against Peter's jeans. Peter made a low noise under his breath before turning around and spraying him in the chest dead center. 

"You dick!" Stiles said, laughing, and going for him again, even as Peter dropped the sprayer, laughing too. 

"I'm done. I promise," he said. 

"Promise promise?" Stiles asked, crowding into his space. 

'Yes," Peter said. "Truce?" 

"Fine," Stiles said, before leaning against Peter, making sure the front of his shirt was as wet as his. Peter made something between an annoyed noise and a laugh before dragging him closer and kissing him. 

His lips were warm against the cold water of the hose still drying on his face. He was still considering a sneak attack before Peter pushed his tongue into his mouth. All the blood started rushing to his scheming dick instead of his scheming brain. Him, Chris, and Peter had had sex twice in the two weeks since Peter came home from his trip, but this was the first time him and Peter had been alone. As much as he liked them together, he liked the few opportunities of getting them alone too, having their undivided attention. Peter's warm hand slid down his back then beneath his soaked shirt, making it ride up until he could feel the faint heat of the sunset on his skin. It gave him a cold chill and Peter laughed between kissing him. 

Right before he was about to ground his hips against Peter where he could feel him hard behind his jeans, cold water smacked him in the shoulder, neck, and face. 

Him and Peter jerked back from each other and looked at his dad, who just raised his brow at them. 

"If you could not hump in the driveway that would be great," he said to both of them, before he looked at Stiles. "If you're going to date the neighbors, at least take advantage of one of the two houses at your disposal and do it behind closed doors, okay?" 

"We were settling a water war."

"Don't care," John said as he walked around the hood of his car. "Nice to see you, Peter, not with your tongue down my son's throat, but still." 

"Have a good night at work, Sheriff," Peter said. 

His face wasn't red at all, because he was a dirty bastard with no shame. 

"And," Sheriff said, opening his driverside door. "If give my kid a disease, I'll ticket you to hell and back until you can't afford those pretty cars, got it?" 

"What if he gives them to us?" Peter asked. 

John's mouth twisted in a frown before he looked at Stiles. "You better not have diseases." 

"God you act like I'm a stray cat." 

"I know how you are," Sheriff said before he got in his car. "Love you. No STDs." 

"I'll try not to. Love you too," He said, rolling his eyes at Peter as John closed the Crown Victoria's door and reversed out of the driveway. "I swear, you get chlamydia one time and he never lets you forget it." 

"Is that normal father son conversation?" Peter asked, pulling Stiles back against his chest as John's car turned the corner. 

"I don't know, have you met me and my dad? I feel like we probably aren't the poster kids for normal." 

"No probably not." 

The door across the street opened and Chris stuck his head out. "Peter, do you still want to go to the bar or not?" 

"Can I bring a friend?" Peter yelled back. 

Even from where they stood Stiles could hear Chris snort. "Yeah, you can bring a friend. Stiles, go get clothes and come take a shower. You both look like drowned rats." 

"He started it," Stiles yelled back. 

"Yeah and you both got scolded by the sheriff, so no one really won," Chris said, "Come on. Let's go get drunk before I don't feel like it anymore," he said, letting the door drop closed. 

"You're married to an old man." 

"You fuck an old man. A lot." 

"I fuck two of them," Stiles said frowning. 

"I would miss you, but I'm not afraid to drown you in a bucket." 

Peter dug his fingers into Stiles ribs and made him jerk against him. His dick was still hard. Stiles laughed and batted him away.

“You didn’t finish my rim job,” Stiles said.

“I’ll give you a better one later,” Peter said, kissing his warm lips up the side of his neck. Two of his wheels were still dirty, but he didn’t really care. He could always drag Peter back out with him tomorrow.


End file.
